


butterfly boy

by audentis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, November 11 2020 Update: Undergoing Revisions!, Soulmates, basically all the angsty prompts, im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audentis/pseuds/audentis
Summary: soul mate/ˈsōl ˌmāt/They are the love language of the universe found through the writing on your skin.Bokuto Koutarou never got an answer back from his.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 23
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	butterfly boy

**Author's Note:**

> hihi! This was originally my one-shot entry for Bokuaka Week 2020, but my brain started rapid firing way too many ideas so I decided to hopefully turn this into a multi-chap fic! If you saw the tags um...angst has been my language lately so sorry :) hope you enjoy reading this regardless!!
> 
> edit: im sorry huhu im so bad at updating but i dont want to give a half assed update askjdfhsd ill get back to this as soon as possible i promise thank you to everyone who's read it so far!!
> 
> [ currently undergoing revisions to clean up the story :D ]

_Soulmates are often imagined as the perfect dream. Stories of finding the partner the universe designated for you, your other half, your perfect someone, the love of your life through some vaguely written clue and a small nudge from the heavens filled the minds of the many who wished to live in a reality where this was true. But sadly, soulmates were not always such a beautiful thing. The concept of soulmates, like so many things in the universe, was shallow and baseless, overrated and understudied. No one actually knew what happened when you didn’t find your soulmate. No one actually knew what would happen if you chose someone who wasn’t your soulmate. No one actually knew anything about the mysterious phenomena aside from the glaring writings that would randomly appear on your skin, and the inevitable relationship that would bloom in suit. Yet such things were ignored by the larger population for the sake of romanticization and the illusion of a perfect reality. But these people were fools, for the universe’s architects were not benevolent beings. They were cruel, calculating, and the gentle dream of soulmates was not something that had been made to be romantic or perfect or ideal. For this was just another game they had formulated for their own twisted entertainment, and we just happened to be at the center of it all._

To the naked eye, it would have seemed Bokuto Koutarou had always had a healthy conversational relationship with his special someone. Marks of ink always seemed to cover every surface of the boy’s arms, legs, neck, and even face. Whether it was to school, or volleyball practice, or to formal family gatherings, the unintelligible scribbles always stayed. Maybe they were perfect for each other. His soulmate must have been chatty too right? That would certainly account for all the empty pens thrown into the bin, and all the blackened soap stain in the sink. But this gentle dream was not something that was meant to be romantic or ideal, and the youth was the perfect example of that.

Bokuto sighed as he scrubbed at the glaring black ink on his forearms. All of them were coming off, as always. You see, the marks and the scribbles were not evidence of a blooming relationship, rather a lonely partnerless waltz he had been dancing since he had learned of the existence of soulmates.

> “What if my soulmate doesn’t know I exist?” he asked loudly on a nice, sunny day.
> 
> “Impossible. In fact, I think it’s more likely they don’t talk to you so that you would stop tattooing yourself everyday.” Kuroo fired back.
> 
> “But that’s just mean!”
> 
> His best friend shrugged. “Not all people are welcome to the idea of whatever’s up there controlling their life.”
> 
> “What if they’re dead?”
> 
> “Don’t say things like that, Bo.” He answered. Clearly the question had made him uncomfortable as he’d started rubbing the little funny cat drawing that had appeared on his wrist just this morning. “Maybe they’re still getting used to your talking. I mean, it’s all you ever do.”

Funny, Bokuto thought. It had been years since that conversation had taken place, and yet, the markings on his skin still had not put up a fight against the water. But Bokuto still held out hope. That was the thing about him, endearing optimism to see the best in every situation. Ironically, that was probably the same thing that was going to be his downfall.

If you didn’t know him well, you would have probably thought Akaashi Keiji was just another normal boy trying to find his place in this tortured reality we called home. The only strange thing about him, really, was the constant jackets and sweaters and long sleeves he wore, even when the sun blazed the Earth with ninety degree fahrenheit beams. Insecurities? Just an overall weird fashion sense? Maybe all of the above?

But no one would have guessed that this young boy who thrived in everything he did, languished in pain and pity. For you see, the universe had dealt him a particularly bad card, maybe the worst it had presented in years.

> “Keiji, sweetheart, please be careful. Your hands were just patched up.”
> 
> “Yes, mom. I know, I’m being careful.” “Please be a little more careful. You’ll scar.”
> 
> “Yes, mom.”

Butterfly Children. Much like soulmates, sounded like a beautiful thing, but it was quite the opposite. The hidden killer's, on the other hand, definitely did not. It sounded like a cancer, a pathogenic strain of bacteria, a disease so bad, it could, and would kill you in an instant. But it wasn’t a cancer, or a pathogenic strain of bacteria, it wasn’t any of those, for the most part anyway. But it was still Mother Nature’s weapon, and it was still lethal.

> _Epidermolysis bullosa_ is a rare genetic condition that makes skin so fragile that it can tear or blister at the slightest touch. Children born with it are often called “Butterfly Children” because their skin seems as fragile as a butterfly wing. While mild cases can be managed, more severe cases are often painful, and may trigger other serious health issues. As of this moment, there is no known cure for this disease.

The fragile, untouchable boy had been tormented by this horrible illness all his life. He never knew what it was like to be hugged, or held, or kissed on the cheek by his mother. He didn’t know what it was like to grasp someone’s hand, or fall to the ground while playing with kids his age. He didn’t know what the sun felt like on his skin, nor did he know the cool breeze of the whipping winds nor the gentle drizzle of rain showers. For he had been closeted his whole life, locked away from the outside world, in the hopes of prolonging his misery just a bit longer.

And naturally, the moment the marks on his skin started appearing, he felt like the universe was playing another practical joke on him.

> “Momma, what are these?” The little boy of five asked his mother, pointing at the shaky attempt of an owl, to which she only gazed at her child with heartbreak in her eyes.
> 
> “They’re soulmate marks, Keiji. It’s your soulmate trying to talk to you.”
> 
> “Can I talk to them too?”
> 
> She reached down and rubbed the patches of gauze that shielded the delicate skin from the outside world, similar to how the unfortunate boy had been all these years. “No, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Writing on your skin would cause it to irritate.”
> 
> “But how am I supposed to talk to them back?” He asked, his blue eyes starting to water a little. “Isn’t that rude?”
> 
> “It’s ok.” His mother replied, softly stroking his hair in consolation. “I think they’ll understand.”

But Akaashi had always wondered if they would ever understand, or if they would eventually lose hope at the prospect of finding the partners the universe had designated for them. He rolled up the baggy sleeves of his sweater, and peeled back a bit of the bandage that fully wrapped around his forearm. There was definitely new writing under there, although he could barely read any of them. Most of the marks vaguely resembled various characters, and words. The others that the writer had actually taken time to draw on was pretty much indiscernible due to the peeling and scarring. Akaashi often wished you could feel the writings being drawn on, that way he could recognize the words by touch instead.

The marks had started appearing a little over a year after he had been diagnosed. Yet, they continued to pop up on his arms, legs, neck and even face at times without fail every day, like they had been for the past ten years. There were some he could actually read. For instance, a space on the side of his neck that had never bothered to irritate had various greetings written on it, every day in a new language. Today, it was a simple _bon matin_ with a tiny barn owl next to it.

They must really like owls. Akaashi thought to himself. Other than the complimentary one that was always added to the daily greetings, he would often be able to make out a wing, or a talon, or a face of the bird from under the gauze. Why don’t they give up? Surely by now they would have realized something was going on, that their soulmate couldn’t reply to them, or even didn’t want to. Yet, they still endearingly wrote greetings and owls, and random reminders to eat something before the day ended. Akaashi hated it when the person on the other end of the phone didn’t reply to his texts within five minutes of hitting the send button. What more ten years?

But a little part of Akaashi, a selfish piece of his entity, didn’t want the messages to stop. He loved them. Waking up, and running to the bathroom to peel back the bandages and read the new ones as they popped up was the highlight to his day. He didn’t want them to stop appearing, he didn’t want them to have to wake up and find his skin clear except for the bumps and bruises from the disease that was eating him alive. He wanted them to keep writing, keep holding out hope the person on the other end would answer them back, even when he knew that was an impossibility.

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter done!
> 
> let me know what you think of it, and what direction you might want this to go! if you want to just scream at me too that's fine too  
> twitter: @sakuspvce


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